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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24319960">Dave’s Got Hanahaki and He’s Highkey Pissed About It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloringwitheyeliner/pseuds/peppermintpeony'>peppermintpeony (coloringwitheyeliner)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>?? - Freeform, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Vomit Mention, its probably super ooc but you know what ? I Do Not Care, paul blart mall cop 2 spoilers, this is literally just me channeling sleep deprived ramblings into johndave</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:47:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24319960</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloringwitheyeliner/pseuds/peppermintpeony</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>what the title says. Rose gave him a journal. Bro idk its 6:54 am and I’m at my friend’s house laying on this couch and my arm hurts bc I’m bad at rollerskating and I can’t figure out how to turn off the living room tv.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Egbert/Dave Strider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. [insert good chapter title here]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So, like, get this, Rose gave me this thing, to like, <em>“contemplate and express the feelings [I] have in a non-self destructive way,”</em> and I’m like Rosie, you know I’m not a 12 year old girl and you’re not my middle school guidance counselor, right? And then Rose is like yeah dumb ass. Use the book though. And I was like ok. I guess.</p><p> </p><p>So like. I guess I have a journal now. I gotta tell you though, journal, my good friend, my buddy, my pal, my old war companion who I now slightly resent but keep around because no one understands the hell I’ve been through like you do.</p><p>Self destructive coping doesn’t really matter when you’re literally fucking dying anyway, does it? </p><p>But I guess if I’m going to do this thing, I oughta do it right and explain everything. I’m a Strider, and we do things 100% even if its ironic bullshit.</p><p>I have Hanahaki disease, which is like, the most selfish bullshit ever. Like “Love me back or I will literally die!” is the most manipulative thing I’ve ever heard of, and I know Vriska Serket. That bitch literally can’t leave shit alone. Like I’m not sure if she’s ever just taken a seat and fuckin chilled for a bit. Maybe she needs a lesson from me. Actually, do you think I should charge folks for cool lessons? I’ll set up a stand, like that little blue bitch from Charlie Brown, <em>Cool Lessons - Only 25 cents! </em></p><p>Actually, nevermind, after writing that I am 100% sure this is the lamest idea I’ve ever had.</p><p> </p><p>Ok Dave, back on topic. God, why is it so hard to stay on topic? I know it must annoy the fuck outta people but like I’m kinda just going with the flow, putting my thoughts out there. And like, honestly, <em>I fucking should</em>, because there’s so much good shit that I’d immediately forget if I didn’t have it written down somewhere. Like yeah I embarass myself every 5 seconds too, but nobody knows it bothers me anyway so who the fuck cares? As far as anyone else knows, I like all of the obnoxious garbage that comes out of my mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Uh, I realize I’m still off-topic though. </p><p> </p><p>Ok, so I have Hanahaki disease, and its bullshit, because <em>again</em>, it’s manipulative as fuck and it wouldn’t cure shit for me to be like <em>“Hey John! I have flowers in my lungs that are actively killing me unless you love me back or I get surgery and forget our wholesome bro bond we’ve carefully constructed over the past however many fucking years!”</em> because he’d either ask me to forget him (ouch), or date me out of pity, and neither of those options are, ya know... great. And like, I don’t want to trap him into dating me either. I want him to date me because he loves me (and I could get into all the reasons why it would be stupid <em>as fuck</em> to turn down a <em>Strider</em> but thats not really the fucking point right now) and not because he doesn’t want his best friend to die. And even if he did actually like me, I wouldn’t ever be really sure, because I would be stuck wondering forever if he was only with me to keep me alive, which I think would probably just make me sick all over again.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not even like everyone who feels like this gets sick. Why’d <em>I</em> have to? What kind of cruel god would make a spontaneous, random disease that makes fuckin <em>flowers</em> grow in your lungs? Does anybody have that dude’s contact info? I just wanna talk. </p><p> </p><p>Anyway. Rose doesn’t know what’s up. You can’t hide shit from her, so she knows something’s bothering me, but as far as I can tell, she doesn’t know what. And she doesn’t need to know. No one does. </p><p> </p><p>Ew. I coughed a petal out into this thing while I was writing. I don’t really feel like touching it, so I think I’ll just leave it in here. People usually put shit in these things anyway don’t they? Guess it can be a permanent fixture. Welcome to your new home, you blue piece of shit. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the one where dave talks about jade i guess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>same thing as work summary but now its 7:24 am. I like to keep things spicy. thats why I buy cinnamon toothpaste. please understand thats a joke.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ugh, ok, so Jade found out. She asked me to come hang out for awhile, and so I was at her house playing with Bec, who knocked me over and decided to put all of his weight onto one paw that he landed square in my stomach, as animals do, which led to me making a very cool <em>eugh</em> sound that <em>may</em> have also pushed a few flower petals out of my throat.</p><p>At first Jade was kinda concerned, and then she was like broooo you got a crush whos it on? And I was like Harles, thats classified info. If you can’t tell from the color, I don’t know what to tell you, to which she responded “Dave I’m literally colorblind,” and I was like thats fair and then she was like “I am a horticulturist though,” and I was like “then what the fuck’s the deal, Harles, because I’m really starting to feel like there are some mixed messages here.” </p><p> </p><p>She picked one off my shirt and she said “Can you tell me what color this is?” and I was like “Literally why would I?” and she said “Stop being a little bitch” which made me finally tell her it was blue. </p><p> </p><p>Then she whipped around and started typing into her weird little lunch box/laptop and pulled up what looked like an excel file she made herself of different flower descriptions, followed by her typing “hanahaki flower meanings” into booble. </p><p>Jade scratches her head behind one of her fake dog ears she has pinned to her head, and with her eyes glued to the screen, she says “It looks like you’re spitting up bluebells. They mean everlasting love and constancy.”</p><p> </p><p>To which I sigh and I’m like “Great,” because like, whoof, man, really? </p><p>And then dog girl whips back around to look at me and shes like “Okay, so who is it though?” and does this stupid little eyebrow wiggle. I stared at her while she did that for a good ten seconds and no, I didn’t end up laughing and telling her, that would be lame, but yeah maybe I did. </p><p> </p><p>So she tilts her head, like she does sometimes when she feels like channeling that kind of dog energy, and closes her eyes and sighs. And then she has the gall to look me in the eyes and say “Bless your heart, Davey.” </p><p> </p><p>I mean, first of all, as a southerner, thats my phrase, and only Dirk gets to ironically use it condescendingly to me. </p><p>I didn’t really feel like getting into that, though, and instead I just laid back on her floor and took a nap. </p><p> </p><p>Note to self: Pester Harley soon and let her know how disrespectful that shit was. I mean, goddamn.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Third One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Whats up folks I'm swapping between sleeping none and sleeping for 12+ hours and this is a no sleep night ya feel. Its 5:02 am lets write some dumb shit y'all know what I'm saying?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>God, ok, so not only is this shit selfish as <em>all fuck</em>, but it also just sucks to <em>deal with</em>. It's not like I really want everyone I know to be aware of the fact that I'm trippin' all over myself for someone to the point of <em>disease</em>, so I have to keep excusing myself to go to the toilet to cough up petals every time they start pokin up my throat. I just know Rose has started cutting my apple juice with water when I'm not looking, because she thinks I have diarrhea from the sugar. No, Rose, I've been drinkin apple juice since I was a fuckin infant in a diaper, tottlin' around and hangin off of whatever I could grab onto, I know how much juice I can handle. Plus like, there's the whole thing with me having a parasitic disease that leeches on me, so fuckin up the flavor of my juice isn't gonna help or keep me from going to the bathroom for the 15th time during movie night. </p><p>Also like I guess having said parasitic disease probably drains my energy and makes me tired, but my <em>juice</em>, man. What the fuck. Like, ok, I get it, I should probably write about how I'm slowly dying, juice maybe isn't the most important thing right now, but I swear to god if I catch her, she's getting a long talking to on the importance of trust and how I paid for that juice and it better taste <em>how I paid for it to taste</em> or I'm gonna <em>lose my goddamn mind</em>. I will go <em>apeshit</em> in this living room, just fuckin bonkers, just absolutely crazy, and then pass out on her floor where she'll have to scrape me up with a shovel and lie to the paramedics about how it isn't her fault that I lost my mind over some juice. It fully is your fault, Rose, the fault is you. </p><p>If it wasn't bad enough that I have to get up 100 times during movie night to pick flowers out of my throat, I fall asleep half way through each movie, and then instead of realizing I'm asleep behind my shades, John turns around and looks at me and is like "Wow! Gee golly whillickers, you must've actually liked that movie, Dave! You only complained for half of it!" which wakes me up and, because I definitely didn't like that movie, I was just asleep, I have to come up with some reason it was shitty without having seen the rest of it while Jade pats my shoulder understandingly, while Rose quietly surveys all of us. You can tell, just by the way she eyeballs Jade's hand, that she knows Jade knows something she doesn't. Well guess what, Lalonde, that's how I plan to keep it, you can keep eyeballin' us over there in your recliner. I'm not sayin shit. And as much like a blabbermouth Jade may seem, she's actually really good with secrets. I really appreciate her for that. </p><p>Anyway, by the time we're on the 4th and final movie for the night, John turns around and looks at me and he's like "I chose your favorite movie for this one" and he fuckin grins this big giant grin as the words <em><span class="u">Paul Blart Mall Cop 2</span></em> emblazon the screen and I had to throw a hand up over my mouth because I did about fuckin' lose my shit over that. Not like, my flower shit, but like my mind shit. I almost lost my fuckin mind, and I can<em> tell</em> by the look on his face that he <em>knows</em> I'm getting ready to, and that stupid fuckin grin on his face gets bigger and I can tell he's relishing in this, submitting my undoubtedly dumb face to his memory.</p><p>So I finally pull myself together and quickly formulate a plan to swallow my pride and <em>not say fuckin shit</em> the whole movie. Like it'd be a funny fuckin joke, John, but joke's on <em>your</em> ass because I <em>will</em> watch Kevin James run around a mall for 1 hour and 34 minutes and pretend like it's the greatest shit on earth. I glance at Jade and Rose and I can tell they both know what kind of challenge John just gave me and I see them wither a little as they realize they're not only gonna have to sit through the dumbest shit they've seen all night, but also sit through <span class="u"><em>Paul Blart Mall Cop 2</em></span>.</p><p>I end up holding it together really well. I don't say shit through out the whole movie. I laugh when the movie obviously wants you to, and I cry when Paul finally accepts his daughter going to her dream school, and somehow, I manage to keep the petals down so I don't have to leave the room.</p><p>John kept trying to riff on it,  but every time I'd nudge his knee with my foot and I'd be like "Bro stop this is my favorite movie." By the end, he's so pissed, and he's like "I can't believe you sat through that whole movie without falling asleep and without riffing on it, I can't believe you watched Kevin James' in-movie daughter defeat the main villain with concealer and didn't say shit, I can't believe you made <em>me</em> sit through that without saying shit." </p><p>I look at him straight in his stupid blue eyes, and I'm like "I'm not the one who picked the movie shit-for-brains" and he finally loses his goddamn mind and its <em>my</em> turn to relish in <em>his</em> reaction. </p><p>When he finally calms down, I ask him "So you knew I fell asleep during the other movies?" and he's like "Haha yeah I just wanted to give you a hard time!" and I kick him a little with my foot so he knows I think he's a jack ass.</p><p>The poor girls fell asleep, so we put blankets over them and John's like "Wanna go up to my room?" so I'm like "Yeah" and when we get up there, he pulls the comforter off his bed and we wrap up in it and lay on the floor. John has these shitty glow in the dark stars on his ceiling that Jade and I helped him put up when we were like 15, so I start pointing at them and making up constellations and telling him these shitty made up stories to explain their meanings like I do every time I'm over. He points to a little cluster in one of the corners and he's like "That one's you" and I say "Yeah?" and he's like "It's called The Little Bitch" , the same way he does (though with a new and different insult) every time, and I play-punch him the best I can from inside the blanket while he's cracking himself up, and I'm looking at him laughing and everything right then felt like home. If anything felt like home, it was definitely that moment. </p><p>I had to interrupt it, though, because at the same time he finished laughing, I fell into a coughing fit and had to go stand in the bathroom for a good 20 minutes trying to figure out what I was gonna do with that many petals to keep anyone from finding them. I ended up being able to sneak my overnight bag into the bathroom and just swept them all into it. </p><p>When I get back to his bedroom, John's jokes about how I have "A cough <em>and</em> diahrrea? Tonight's just not your night, <em>is it</em>, man?" and I kick his leg and tell him to "Shut up, dumbass." I sat down and wrapped back up in the comforter with him, and I drifted asleep while he talked about salamander biology and how they can't hear, so they don't make any sounds either. </p><p>This would be so much easier if I just felt like I could tell the guy, but no matter how he reacts, I'd feel like shit. I guess I could confess and just not tell him I'm sick, but I don't think I could hold back the shit growing in me if he turned me down, so if I tell him at all I might as well tell him I'm sick, too, and I'm not doing that. I just, I wish there was a good way to deal with this, but there isn't. Maybe I <em>should</em> talk to Rose about it.</p><p>We'll see.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks to http://justfunfacts.com/interesting-facts-about-salamanders/ for the cool salamander facts</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sometimes that depression hits you just right</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I hate writing in this thing. Part of it feels disingenuous. Like what the fuck does it matter if I write everything down here? What difference could it make? It feels like putting everything I think and feel into a journal turns what’s going on in my head into something physical, something someone else can grab and find and read, and I specifically don’t want to share this with anyone. </p><p>I’m mostly shook up because John almost read this. </p><p>I don’t know why I brought it with me to John’s. I should’ve known better. When he saw a glimpse of it in my bag, he wrestled me for it. He pulled it out, and fucking giggled, like a little school girl. His eyes were all bright and excited when he turned to ask me “What’s this?” </p><p>And like, honestly I’m not mad. This journal Rose picked out for me has a fluffy kitten with a wizard hat hanging from a tree that says “How will I get <em>MEOW-T</em> of this one?!?” and listen. It’s kind of great. Ironically. And if I had seen it in John’s bag, I would’ve reached for it too. </p><p>This one, though, happens to have information I specifically don’t want the asshole to know. </p><p>So I’m like “Dude, give it back.”</p><p>And he’s like “What, does it have your shitty raps you don’t even want to share with me in it?” and he laughs and then his eyes go wide and he asks “Or- wait- maybe it has mushy love songs in it? Are you holding out on me, David?” </p><p>Like god I wish thats all I had in there. But instead of trying to make anything up I just say “Just give it back, Johnathan, you wiley bitch.” </p><p>And he gives a “Harumph” and knits his eyebrows together and pretends to pout, but gives it back. </p><p>That was probably two, three weeks  ago? I needed some time to decide if I want to keep writing. I guess I do. It’s hard to find the energy for it. </p><p>Like, god, I’m for real just so fucking exhausted. I don’t- can’t- sleep at night. When I finally go to sleep, I can’t get up when I need to. I miss and fuck up important shit. When I wake up again, I just try to push myself to do what I can but nothing gets done and I’m exhausted but I can’t sleep at all, not until its 7am again and my brain finally gets the memo to shut off. </p><p>There’s an almost constant lump in the back of my throat that I can’t get rid of. I’ve tried everything. I want to throw up. My face feels numb when I wake up sometimes. </p><p>I’ve been able to hide most of it. Bro probably just thinks I’m lazy. I don’t know if thats worse. I don’t have the energy to try to talk to him about it and find out. </p><p>I just talk to John. And I talk to John. And I talk to John. He’s there. He’s present. I can text him almost any time. </p><p>I talk to Jade and Rose too. They’re great to talk with. They fill a lot of the gaps when John isn’t talking to me. </p><p>I work on my comic sometimes. I don’t really make anything good though. I mean, not that my usual content is “good” beyond its ironic value, but recently its almost not even ironically good. </p><p>I don’t know what I’m going to do. </p>
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